


“Let’s not get into that.”

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Mystrade Prompt Challenge [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A little angst in the beginning, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Up, Morning Sex, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Soft Smut Sunday, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Imperfect evenings sometimes lead to perfect mornings.





	“Let’s not get into that.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Soft Smut Sunday and the Mystrade Prompt Challenge (Yay! Multitasking!)
> 
> Dialogue: "Let's not get into that."
> 
> Circumstance: on a Saturday night and in a bedroom
> 
> Word: tender

It was supposed to be have been a pleasant evening. They’d both had long weeks necessitating working on Saturday. Finally released from their respective duties Saturday night was meant to have been relaxing. It was anything but. Instead they were both irritable and fractious. They had trouble choosing a restaurant and when they did it was a disaster. The restaurant décor was horrid and the room was cold. Mycroft picked at his food and complained about the seasoning. Greg drank too much and sniped about Sherlock and John. Neither felt like lingering over coffee and dessert and the wait staff was grateful.

 

When they arrived home they were hardly speaking to each other. There was an attempt to rescue the night from abyss it had descended into. They dithered over whether to have tea or a drink. Not tea? Perhaps you’d like a cognac or a mixed drink?

 

Mycroft finally fixed them an aperitif but then they couldn’t decide what to watch as they drank their beverage.

 

They bickered over whether it was too late to start a movie. If not a movie, then what? Cricket was on, why not that? Does it really matter that it’s T20 cricket? Would you rather watch an episode of ‘Yes, Prime Minister’? Or ‘Doctor Who’? Okay, but which Doctor?

 

Greg ended up knocking his drink back and stomping off to the bedroom. “Bloody hell.” Greg muttered to himself. He stripped off his clothes, leaving them on the floor. He knew he was being passive-aggressive, but really didn’t care.

 

Mycroft stayed up listening to Wagner and staring into the empty fireplace. Greg was long asleep and snoring by the time Mycroft wandered up to their room. He silently got ready for bed and curled up with his back to Greg.

 

As the night passed into morning healing occurred. Their bodies gravitated toward each other, seeking familiar comfort. The foul humor infecting them Saturday night faded away with sleep. Greg awoke first, feeling Mycroft pressed up against his back and his arm was flung over Greg’s abdomen. Greg’s cock was hard. It had slipped out of the fly of his boxers and Mycroft’s elegant fingers were loosely holding it. The touch was teasingly light. Greg shivered and shivered again as he felt Mycroft’s equally erect cock nudge against his bum.

 

Smiling Greg carefully rolled over to face Mycroft. Mycroft’s eyes blinked open and he sighed softly as their pricks brushed together through Mycroft’s pajama bottoms.

 

“G’morning.” Greg murmured.

 

“Good morning.” Mycroft’s voice was muzzy from sleep.

 

They looked at each other for a long moment. Searching the other for any signs of lingering crossness. In unison they spoke.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Apologies for my behavior.”

 

Greg chuckled.

 

“Truly. I’m appalled we spent our only night together this week snapping at each other.”

 

“So am I.” Greg gathered Mycroft close. “Let’s make up for it this morning.” Greg moved in for a kiss only to have Mycroft twist away, sneezing into his elbow.

 

“Bless you.”

 

“So sorry.” Mycroft sniffed. He reached for the tissues and gave his nose a quick blow. “What?” Greg was grinning madly.

 

“Nothing. It’s just kind of cute.”

 

Mycroft huffed and sank back in Greg’s arms. “My sneezing every morning? You’re ridiculous.”

 

“I’m sure there are things about me you find adorable, that I wouldn’t.”

 

Mycroft smiled. “The way your hair defies gravity.” He reached up and carded his fingers through the silvery locks. “You run your hands through it trying to smooth it, but really it just becomes more tousled.”

 

“It doesn’t make it look better?”

 

“I didn’t say it didn’t look better.”

 

“Now who’s being ridiculous?”

 

Their heads tilted and their lips pressed together. Soft tongues tasting of sleep gently explored each other. They took their time making love, each worshiping the other. By silent consensus Greg ended up on top, gazing reverently down at his lover. He felt humbled by the love and trust he saw in Mycroft’s eyes. Greg shook his head in wonder.

 

“I can hardly believe you are mine to cherish and adore.”

 

Mycroft smiled shyly, his cheeks flushed. “All yours.”

 

Greg crushed Mycroft to his body, kissing him thoroughly. He moved deep inside Mycroft possessing him with each stroke. Mycroft cried out Greg’s name as he was brought to the brink. Sliding out Greg cradled Mycroft as he tipped over the edge. Mycroft whimpered in Greg’s arms as he drifted down to earth. Soft kisses were pressed to Mycroft’s cheeks and forehead and sweet nothings whispered in his ear.

 

Still hazy from his orgasm, Mycroft stroked Greg’s cock. His long fingers teased and tugged, driving Greg mad from the ever-changing stimulation. Mycroft was re-energized by his lover’s intense arousal and laid tender kisses down his body. Laving Greg’s swollen prick with long, wet caresses of his tongue, Mycroft brought the man to wail and moan of his undying devotion. The climax that followed made Greg howl for more and for mercy.

 

Once again cuddled in each other’s arms, warm and sated, Greg softly kissed Mycroft. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

“How could I possibly love you more than I do now?” Mycroft murmured as Greg gently tended to the aftermath.

 

A mischievous look crossed Greg’s features. “Grilled salmon, asparagus and those little roasted potatoes you love for dinner?”

 

Mycroft bit his lip and snickered before he spoke. “Yet somehow I believe I will.”

 

“Fastest way to your heart.” Greg tickled Mycroft’s belly and they both laughed and squirmed. Relaxing back to quiet snuggling, Greg spoke. “I don’t know what happened last night.”

 

“Let’s not get into that.” Mycroft mumbled sleepily. “Not now anyway.”

 

Greg squeezed Mycroft. “No, not now.”


End file.
